


Reflections

by RunePhoenix6769



Series: SHATTERED [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunePhoenix6769/pseuds/RunePhoenix6769
Summary: Reworked.Aftermath of Widow's short, Alive.PREQUEL TO SHATTERED.Taking some down time at her ancestral home Castle Gulliard, Sombra and Widowmaker discuss Tracer.





	Reflections

‘Reflections ‘

Between Numbani and Kings Row, she was too hot to move freely. 

The sign of a job well done.

She grinned inwardly at the irony of the words as she lounged in the heat that as a child had seared her veal like skin, causing her to retreat to the cool shade of the alcoves offered in the grandiose and sweeping architecture. Such childish impulses no longer afflicted her, now she basked in the tendrils of flame that licked her skin and warmed her muscles.

She had intended to take a moment of respite, in this place that held gossamer whispers of a past life, but for Sombra, a well-stocked wine cellar had been too good of an opportunity to miss. The French woman was not naive enough to believe that her ‘friend’ had just casually dropped by, like an annoyingly over eager neighbour, with fresh pastries and cheeses, from the cobble stoned village that skirted the edge of the Gulliard lands. 

Such was the illusion of her sanctuary.

It was an intrusion Widow was willing to tolerate, for now.

Keeping a mask of indifference, she was loath to watch, as in passing the Mexican hacker had flicked the wedding photo of a spectre and Gerard, stating “Nina, no esta mal.” followed by a playful knowing smirk and blink heralding that the image had been stored to memory, before routing through the bottles of the extensive collection within the cool cavernous arches in the bowels of the castle until she found something to her liking. 

For now, Amelie Lacroix was intent on enjoying a glass of wine even with the annoying interruption. 

The lake was still, save for the ripples of the bobbing fish and the concentric circles caused by her acquaintance trailing her toes in the cool waters that surrounded the Gulliard ancestral home. Silence occasionally broken by the hooting of some bird far off in the distance that Widow knew, if the urge took her, she could skewer out of the sky. 

To the untrained eye and ear there was no wind shear to speak of. Perfect conditions for a kill shot.

She coolly observed a mallard alighting from the mirror like surface, counting in her head the wing-beats, the distance, and the trajectory. It was hardly a challenge, not worth wasting a high calibre bullet that would no doubt reduce the creature to little more than soft tufts often found within the pillowcases of the wealthy.

One,

Pump,

Two,

Pump. 

Amelie closed her eyes, embryonic pinks mixed in with flashes of purple and blues, trailing her fingertips across the baked granite beneath her as she imagined caressing the trigger of Widow’s Kiss. A deep intake of breath through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, that could be akin to a sigh, as in her mind’s eye the bird faltered in mid-air before pin wheeling to the earth below. Widow felt a sense of peace. 

A tentative slap on her ankle brought her out of her reverie,

“Mi amiga, no me oiste?”

“Je ne t’ecoute j’amais!”

They both shared a look before laughing. 

An acquaintance out of necessity, not a friend, the annoying wisp of Amelie reminded. Widow leaned forward offering the wine bottle, remnants of dust upon the label written in a language that was almost obsolete in the later part of 21st century stave for those few that knew it. Like taffeta clinging to a Madame, a sign of prestige and fashion long passed but no less regarded. Sombra waved off the advance. 

“No , no, I have what I need here.” As she pulled a small net from the waters, “You can keep your pigs swill.” 

Sombra continued to reel in her delights. The bottles of clear liquid, that in the 20th and early 21st century had been available over the whole of Europe which was now difficult to come by and it had once been claimed was capable of running cars, staving off cold, the elixir for fighting bears with AK47’S and eventually Omenics, clinked off each other. 

Widow watched as her acquaintance retrieved her preferred beverage from the cool depths, the bending of her back showing off the cybernetic hardware grafted to her skin. Curiosity got the better of the sniper,

“Does the water not short out your circuits?” 

Sombra looked nonplussed, “Are you living in the 21st century, me amiga?” Dipping her legs further, she submerged her thighs as if to prove a point, “What good would it do if every time I took a shower I had to worry about such things?” Using her hands, she dramatically made a splash as she triumphantly claimed the bottle she was looking for. 

She grinned whilst pouring herself a lavish dram, necking it back in a way that Amelie would cringe at but Widow understood.  
“Only the best for Sombra!”

“There is no accounting for taste.”

“The Russian’s knew what they were doing. “ 

“Unlike now?”

“Mi amiga, in this fucked up world nobody knows what any of us are doing anymore!”

Widow tipped her head in agreement before lapsing into a comfortable silence. Toying with the stem of her wine glass, she ran through her head how each glass receptacle was either a concave or convex shape. Each glass shattered or broke in its own unique way. Each different type of tempered glass and liquid within bringing its own variables.

Sombra spread her hands showing a light screen video, the glare of the water making it almost unintelligible, she cursed under her breath. Between her delicate fingers and technological nails, the Talon operative tapped until she was satisfied with the contrast of the footage showing the exact moment of Widow’s triumph; the decommissioned Overwatch agent recognisable by the bright colours of her signature uniform, blinking in and out of existence, as the bullet slid like a needle through her chronal accelerator continuing into the forehead of the target.

One shot, one kill.

“Did you know she was going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Her Marty McFly thing.”

The footage of Tracer patting her chronal accelerator with panicked fervency continued to play.

“Oui, I was counting on it.” Swilling the glass in the palm of her hands, she noted how the liquid briefly coated the sides, reminding her of venous spray. “Nobody wants to die, not even Heroes.”

For a brief moment in free-fall as the red brick buildings gave way, the sniper hadn’t been so sure, as she aimed through Lena’s sternum. In a split second where her and her rival were suspended in the air that had seemed to last for eons, she squeezed the trigger. Widow had found herself wishing for the British agent to blink as the recoil propelled her backwards. The tight feeling in her chest only abating as the exquisite moment of defiance gave way to broken resolve, before Tracer blinked out of time, only to come back with the pained realisation that she had somehow failed.

The youthful innocence that no one in their line of work had any right to possess, shattering into a thousand pieces. The lithe body of the ex-RAF pilot slamming her into the rooftop, as she demanded to know “Why?” The glossed coral shell coloured lips pulled back over gleaming white teeth, the flurry of expressions causing the smattering of freckles to chase each other across the bridge of her upturned nose and her huge doe eyes brimming with a myriad of emotions Amelie recognised but Widow was not meant to feel. 

The memory brought goosebumps to her skin and a luxurious shudder down her spine. 

Olivia Colomdar slyly watched her through long dark lashes.

“What if she hadn’t?”

The thought reached into the recesses of her sternum, catching her heart in a vice like grip. Knowing every part of her behaviour was being catalogued and at some point could potentially be used to betray her. Widow remained aloof as she took a languid sip of her wine.

“Then ce la vie. I clinched an Overwatch agent.”

Like a gnat intent on committing suicide, the hacker pressed further, 

“Why didn’t you finish her off?”

“I flung her off a roof.”

The hacker played grainy footage taken from a nearby surveillance drone, showing Widow making her way up the ramp into the VTOL as Tracer stood below.

“You had plenty of opportunity to finish the job.” 

“She wasn’t the objective!”

“All former Overwatch agents are the objective.”

Those snatched, precious moments of life Tracer elicited in her, Amelie was not willing to trade and she often wondered just how much Sombra suspected about her strange fascination with the Overwatch poster girl. 

Would it come to a point where she would have to be eliminated? She could do it now and have done with it.  
Sombra broke into a toothy grin, raising another shot of clear liquid, “One shot , one kill.” She guffawed. “Should be more like, what do the English say? Two birds with one stone?” 

One shot, one kill indeed.

Widow remained silent as Amelie asked, “Have you ever flipped a stone?” 

The smaller woman rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “I had better things to do than throwing rocks into what little uncontaminated water we had. “

Widow uncoiled, feeling her bones crack and her muscles stretch in an altogether familiar way. Gracefully alighting from her perch, picking up a pebble, she weighed it in her hand. Her other hovering over the soft, exposed neck of the unsuspecting woman. 

It would be so easy to push the smaller woman under the water, gripping her by the back of the neck, holding her down as she thrashed uselessly until bubbles ceased to break the surface. The French assassin could dig out the cybernetics in case they contained any tracking devices and discard them at her earliest convenience. She could wrap the body in a tarp and net, secreting her former acquaintance in the dark waters underneath the house.

But much like her first kill, it would be messy and lacking finesse. 

The coding extraordinaire had her uses, that maybe one day the sniper would have a need for. Maybe for now Widow would sit back, safe in the knowledge that she was aware of the Los Muertos former member’s double dealing.  
In the Mexican hacker’s own words, “Information is power, mi amiga, and no one can hide.”

A small reprieve. 

Olivia would live to see another day.

Taking a stance, Amelie flicked the stone out, watching it as it curved before lightly kissing the surface, skimming the mirror of her childhood before disappearing into the inky depths.

One shot. One Kill.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, feel free to show your support and buy me a kofi at the address below.
> 
> http://ko-fi.com/formerlyrunephoenix6769
> 
> Keep my kitten Nym in caffeine! :)


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